


Happier

by spraycansoul



Series: Favorite Record [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Epikegster, Fluff, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Song fic, kind of a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 03:48:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10324940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spraycansoul/pseuds/spraycansoul
Summary: When Kent Parson decided to visit Samwell to rope Jack into joining the Aces, he honestly didn’t know what he was expecting.Whatever it was, it wasn’t this.-OR: The one where Kent sees Jack happy, and eventually he learns how to be happy, too.





	

**Author's Note:**

> OK SO it turns out i like writing song fics about kent parson. this is one suPER SUPER BASED ON happier by ed sheeran because the first time i heard it an alarm went off in my head screeching KENT PARSON KENT PARSON and i needed to write it, so. this is that.

When Kent Parson decided to visit Samwell to rope Jack into joining the Aces, he honestly didn’t know what he was expecting.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t this.

He had maybe already expected the assaulting smell of alcohol when he stepped into the Haus foyer. It was a college party, after all—of course it smelled like cheap booze. He’d expected the music, the noise, the crowd. He had even anticipated the fans, coming up to him one after the other, accosting him for selfies. He had maybe overlooked Jack’s housemates remembering him and roping him into a quick game of beer pong (which he begrudgingly lost to a tiny Asian girl whose name had something to do with lard, he was sure), but he let it slide because he was Kent Parson, and he had a rep to protect.

He had not, however, at all expected Jack Zimmermann to be sidled up next to a short, blonde—objectively cute—boy by the far wall. Even more, that he would be talking animatedly with a twinkle in his eyes and a grin on his face that he only ever saw on the ice. 

Jack looked happy. Kent's brain supplied the word before he could even process what that meant. Jack looked happier than Kent had ever seen him, actually. The realization hit him in the face and made him stop dead in his tracks.

Had Jack ever looked this happy in the Q?

The Memorial Cup, his brain supplied. But Kent supposed that didn't count. 

He watched them for another second before deciding what to do. The shorter boy rolled his eyes and said something, and Jack honest-to-goodness laughed. It was not lost on him how loose Jack’s shoulders looked, the non-existent furrow of his brow—even his eyes seemed a little bit brighter than he’d recalled. Kent wondered who the fuck this guy was and what he had done with the Jack he knew from the Q. The intense Jack. The lazer-eyes, lazer-focus, no-nonsense Jack who only loosened up after more than a few beers. It scared him a little to think that maybe the Jack he knew wasn’t there anymore.

Before he lost his nerve, he strode across the room over to where Jack and his—friend?—were talking. As he got closer, weaving throughout the crowd, he saw the shorter boy pull out his phone. And then he heard Jack’s voice. It floated into his consciousness seamlessly, like a camera finding its focus.

“…take a selfie or something together.” His tone was light and teasing and _not_ shy at all, and Kent can’t remember if he had ever heard it like this when they were together. He at least hoped so.

“There it is!” The shorter boy laughed, shaking his head.

“I’m serious! You know, like, 'Bitty’s first big kegster'. You could put it on your blog.” Jack grinned. “I mean, I don’t get selfies, but you’ve—”

“I wouldn’t believe it if I weren’t seeing it myself.” Jack and the shorter boy looked up at him in surprise, and even Kent was startled at the sound of his own voice. “Jack Zimmermann. At a party. Taking a _selfie_.” He had gone for chirping, but it came out a little bitter. 

Jack’s friend seemed to recognize him immediately, his huge eyes widening to the size of saucers. “Oh my gosh!” he said, before realizing what he’d done and hiding in his hands.

Jack’s smile dropped from his face, his shock turning his blue eyes into the ice that Kent was used to swimming in. “Kent,” he said, and Kent wanted to collapse. Jack never called him Kent. Not really.

Kent forced a smirk anyway and hoped it didn't come out as a grimace. “Hey, Zimms. Didja miss me?"

Jack, for a second there, didn’t seem to think he was even real. “You…?” he started asking, shaking his head instead of finishing. “What are you doing here?”

Kent was surprised by the sharpness of his tone. “Came to visit my good friend,” he shrugged, inwardly cringing at the sound of that lie. “I missed ‘ya, Zimms.”

Jack seemed to ponder that for a second before turning back to his small friend. “Oh, um, Parse, this is Bittle. Bittle, you know Kent Parson,” he said, his Hockey Robot mode in full effect. Kent slightly wishes he hadn’t made his presence known too soon, if just to see Jack smile for a little longer. 

The boy—Bittle—also looked surprised, but a lot more pleasantly so. “How could I not! Oh, lord, you’re Kent Parson. Can we take a picture?” he blurted all at once, slapping a hand over his mouth again. “Sorry, it’s just, wow, you’re—” 

Jack cut in before he could put any more of his foot in his mouth. Kent did not miss his hand drifting over to squeeze Bittle’s shoulder. “I’ll take it for you,” he offered, and Bittle excitedly handed over his phone to pose next to Kent. Kent mimicked Jack’s earlier action, did not miss Jack’s eyes flicker to where Kent had rested his hand on Bittle’s shoulder, and smiled for the camera.

“Thank you!” Bittle said when Jack handed his phone back. “Wow, I’ll—I’ll leave you guys to catch up! Y’all enjoy now! Jack, do _not_ allow Mr. Parson to leave without a slice of pie!” He looked pointedly at Jack.

Jack just fondly rolled his eyes and started to say, “Actually, I don’t mind—” just as Kent said, “Cool, thanks.” Bittle looked between the two of them, more reluctant to leave than stay, and Jack shrugged. He seemed to take that as his cue to go, and with one last hesitant look over his shoulder, he shot them—mostly Jack—a smile before disappearing into the crowd. Kent turned to find Jack with a matching small, mindless smile aimed at the back Bittle's head, before he seemed to catch himself. He closed himself up before Kent could get a word in. 

Kent did not see Jack's smile again that night, not even when they found Bittle at his door. He knew exactly half of it was his fault.

In retrospect, he supposed that if that was the effect he had on Jack, it would just be better to keep his distance. He had it on good authority that no one else had hurt Jack quite as much as he had, and that no one had hurt him quite as much as Jack had. But up until that night, he’d always thought he was the only one who could love Jack the way he did.

If Jack had finally found other people to love him, Jack had always looked better smiling anyway. And if Jack was already in the process of moving on from Kent… Well. Good for him, Kent supposed. Personally, he wasn’t ready to let Jack go quite yet, but he knew he'd get there. 

Hopefully. Eventually.

But that night, sitting in his obnoxious rented Spyder and a puddle of frustrated tears, it just hurt.

 

It’s a few years later, and Kent finds himself staring at a photo of Jack and Bittle on his phone, one that had been posted to Instagram not even half an hour earlier, but already had over half a million likes. He hadn’t seen or heard from either of them since the Epikegster, aside from the occasional news article about Jack ZImmermann’s latest hockey achievements. Part of him is grateful for that.

It’s a simple picture—mundane, even, in its domesticity. It’s just Bittle standing by a kitchen counter (Jack’s kitchen counter, he presumes) with Jack’s arms around his waist and Jack’s chin hooked on his shoulder. Bittle holds a wooden spoon covered in batter up to Jack’s mouth, but they’re both staring into each others’ eyes instead of the camera. Kent’s not even sure they even knew there was a camera, because exactly none of it looks staged. In fact, even just looking at the photo, seven thousand-something miles away from where it was taken, Kent still feels like he’s intruding.

If he thought Jack was happy at that god-forsaken frat house that night he came to visit, that kind of happy was nothing next to the happy the Jack in this picture looked. It’s been years, but it only dawns on Kent at that moment that it really was Bittle the night of the Epikegster. It was Bittle who put Jack’s smile on his face. 

“Victory is sweet,” the caption reads, and Kent has to agree. He knows victory, experienced it just last year when the Aces won the Cup, and a couple other times before that. He doesn’t remember ever smiling that hard, though. 

His stomach sinks with the reminder that this year, the Aces had been knocked out in the second round of the playoffs, while the Falconers eventually went on to win the Cup.

And Jack eventually went on to win it all.

It’s Swoops who snaps him out of his reverie, sinking back into his place on Kent's couch. He sets two beers down on the coffee table and sighs loudly as he eases back into the cushions. “You okay there, Cap?” he asks, waving a hand in front of his face. Swoops leans over to see what Kent’s staring at, and his mouth falls open in shock. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah,” Kent agrees, locking his phone and redirecting his gaze to the far wall, where the TV is mounted. “Wow.”

Swoops seems to take a moment to process what exactly that picture means, and Kent is grateful for the extra beat of silence. Swoops knows, of course—really, all of his team and management know—about Kent’s sexuality. The distinction is it’s only really Swoops who knows about Jack. 

“Sucks, man,” Swoops finally supplies. 

Kent breathes a bitter laugh in response. “You don’t say.” 

Swoops follows his gaze to the blank TV screen before speaking again. “But hey, you’ll find someone too, eh?” He breaks out his toothy grin and holds out a fist for Kent to bump.

Kent shakes his head but complies, bumping his fist and knocking his elbow against Swoops'. “Yeah, and then it’ll be my turn to post some fucking cheesy-ass Instagram pictures and no one can say shit.” He plasters a smirk on his face for full effect.

Swoops seems to buy it completely. “And then we can chirp you to hell and back!” he says, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and turning on the television. “It’ll be great.”

Kent grins at the idea of being in love the way Jack is. He wonders if his time will actually come. He sincerely hopes it does.

 

It’ll be a year later, when Kent is at Jack and Bitty’s wedding, when he and Jack are finally fine, when he’d been going to see his therapist once every two weeks for six months, that he decides that if Jack can find a love like this, he can—and he _should_ —try to find love for himself. That he can (and should) let himself be truly happy.

He'll shed a few tears at Jack and Bitty’s vows, because he’d have to be a robot not to. (Jack and Bitty fit so perfectly together, and Kent will think it’s almost embarrassing how long it took for either of them to realize it.) At the reception, he will ask (persuade?) Jack to introduce him to Alexei Mashkov, and he will decide that he had waited far too long for this to be his. He’ll take a breath, a chance, and Alexei’s hand. They’ll dance all night, and he’ll kiss him in the moonlight. Kent will smile so hard, he’s afraid his face will fall off.

They’ll be together for a year and a half before they publicly announce it, and it’ll be another year before Alexei bends down on one knee with a ring in his hands. Kent will say yes.

Later, at his own wedding, Kent will find Jack sitting two rows behind his parents, smiling at Bitty like he’d hung the moon, stars, and sun, and then smiling at Kent like he'd always known they’d get here.

Kent will look at Alexei, and he won’t have to force a smile. He feels happier.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote about the last part and you can read it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9916235) AND you can come yell @ me any time about our favorite hockey gays on tumblr (i'm @zimmerhomme!!)


End file.
